


The Vigilante

by neatomosquito



Series: The Winter Children [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2005, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angelic Lore, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Don't Have to Know Canon, F/M, Family, Hell Hounds, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Canonical Character(s), Mystery, Nephilim, Original Character-centric, Original Mythology, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Protective Older Brothers, Protective Siblings, Siblings, Sisters, Supernatural Elements, Violence, angel - Freeform, because honestly we need more women on the show, protective older sister, two sisters one brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1438480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neatomosquito/pseuds/neatomosquito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>May, Hugh and Liz Winter find themselves directed to a country town where a series of deaths leads from one ectoplasm trail to another. This is one seriously powerful and pissed off spirit, and the three Winter's have to stop it before it kills someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Three Hunters from within the Hunting community, May, Liz and Hugh.  
> Basically agents from whom I can explore the many opened unexplored plots and a few underrepresented characters.

**PROLOGUE**

**-**

_November 2nd, 1975_

_-_

The Angels met with the Demons, and Hell and Heaven eyed each other warily. They stood, alone and staring on a windy hill in Scotland, three miles away from where the demon who would be Crowley had sold his soul for an extra few inches under the belt and then another 10 more from where his bones melted into the earth and sat there, food for worms, yellowing away.

"The union has been fulfilled," Zachariah informed them, wearing the body of a middle aged, balding man. The wind picked at the sleeves of his jacket and at the graying wisps at the top of his head. "The children have been prophesised. We have it on good authority with our prophet that they will make it to the designated ages."

"Three little kids, must send my regards to the mother," Azazel grinned lazily, eyes flicking to yellow. Azazel wore a handsome business man, who's body would be found ripped and bleeding in a ditch not far from the windy hill in three days.

Children would cry, the wife would lose herself and nobody would care.

"Focus, demon," Naomi said, deadly quiet, looking over and into the demons true form with disgust. "We cannot stay here much longer. Our absence from heaven must not be noted by the lower angels."

The demon that would be Meg raised her eyebrow and pursed her lip. She knew that the angels had something seriously  _wrong_ echoing around in the overly hyped up canary cage, but this seemed almost too off. Seemed a little  _too_ ridiculous. Demons, what did they want? Fire and death and pain, right? Angels, they were a whole different ball park. They wanted  _power_. Power over humanity, power over Hell, power over their own. And honestly, it  _scared_ Meg.

"They must hunt," Zachariah reminded them. "Ensure that they do."

"I don't know, I might have a problem with adding a few extra targets on my back," Azazel said noncommittally, peering at his nails.

Naomi bristled slightly and held her lips taut. "Then it is our responsibility and we will see it done. Any further matters?"

"None that I can think of," Azazel said easily, glancing at Meg for second opinion, who just nodded and smirked. "Oh, Lilith sends her apologies. She was all holed up terrorising a family in Argentina, but she did so wish to come."

Naomi did not rage, or even _start_ , or demand that Lilith be brought to her to answer for her crimes. Rather, she perked an eyebrow, glanced at her associate and smiled, a little, feral smile.

"It has been too long since you've talked to angels, Demon."

Naomi and Zachariah disappeared, leaving Azazel and his daughter to walk away, side by side, self-assured smiles on their faces.

"It's going to be an interesting few years, that's for sure," Meg grinned.

"Oh, I'm certain of it," Azazel grinned.

 


	2. The Vigilante, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start kickin' into gear

**JOB 1: _THE VIGILANTE_**

* * *

 

_Southern New York State,_

_October 22nd, 2005_

_The Witching Hour_

* * *

 

May stared down at the corpse, light blinking from its eyes, blood leaking from the stump that used to hold its head, the fingers that used to move and flow with life.

She wiped away the blood that coated her cheek, scowling down at the newly dead vampire.

She shook her head as she clicked her gun into safety, wiped her knife on her pants and stuffing it into her belt. She glanced around at the blood splattered art that had manifested itself along the alley's wall and the words of a slightly drunk Bobby Singer came to mind. _No one chooses this life_.

Wise words they were, May affirmed, eyes switching over the scene in front of her. Wise words indeed.

Her brother wiped gore from his arm, gun clipped to his waist, Jacket nearly covering up the handgun in his back pocket. He scowled and made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. Even in the darkness and under the blood that had somehow found itself along his jaw, May could make out the stubble creeping along his chin and the darkness spoiling under his shared blue eyes. His dark hair was in dire need of a cut, and it fell over a scratch that reached over his eyebrow.

Liz, her little sister, her youngest sibling, was a little pale, a little unsteady, but confident as she pushed a stray lock behind her ear. The same freckles that dusted her nose decorated May’s, and they all shared their mothers bright blue eyes. The similarities stopped there, however. Liz had black hair and May had brown, Liz was petite, with deer-long legs and a dancers pose, May had more of a truck drivers posture and all the grace of a fish dancing on land.

“We finished here?” May asked them, nudging the headless vampire with her foot, her lip curling up in disgust.

“Yep,” Hugh replied, looking up and grinning. “Can’t wait around much longer, someone might notice the decapitated body.”

May glared at her brother and Liz rolled her eyes.

"You know, smiling with blood dripping down your face makes you look like a cannibal," May remarked.

"Like, Hannibal before he was all discovered or after?"

Liz started walking, knowing that whenever May and Hugh started talking about something stupid, they didn't shut up for at least half an hour.

May and Hugh followed.

May wrinkled up her nose. "Like that cannibal we saw in that movie that one time."

"Wow, May, way to be specific."

"C'mon, we can't have seen more than three cannibal movies."

"At the most," Liz put in. She lead them along the alley, the blood splatters that looked like some gruesome red paint, flicked off May's machete were now difficult to see, especially thanks to the low light.

"Yeah, but _which_ of the three?" Hugh pressed.

"The cheapish looking one," May coaxed. "You know, the one with that girl we thought looked like Kate Winslet."

"Oh," Hugh said, then made a face. " _Oh_."

May grinned, and shared a quick glance of mirth with Liz, who couldn't help a grin spread across her face as well.

It was always like this. Always. Something would happen, they might get hurt, they might pull the trigger and watch as life limped from the body of something that might, once upon a time, been human, but then they'd manage to forget it. May might have been scared of how easy it was, to ignore the nightmares, to drink away the monsters, the laugh away the evil. That is, if she wasn't so grateful to it.

The Alleyway ended and the long, dark deserted road began. No one frequented this area of town at night, no one dared even glance through their windows as they passed through. It was the sort of place that harboured such a deep, dark, dreaded mysterious hysteria, that not even the people traditionally thought feared dare set foot.

The Hive itself hadn't been hard. They'd attacked it at night and managed to get five of the ten camping out on the outskirts of town before the rest woke up. Even then only three escaped, and the corpse, that used to be a vampire, that used to be a perky cheerleader, was the last of their concern.

They emerged onto the street and crossed over to where their car was sitting, a nondescript run-of-the-mill, why-can’t-we-be-like-the-Winchesters-and-own-a-cool-car second hand ford falcon. They dumped their guns in the boot, careful to cover it up with the usual taboo items, mainly dirty bags full of springs and broken bits and pieces, a tire and their duffel bags.

May climbed into the passenger seat, Liz into the back and Hugh into the drivers. The car started, the head lights flickered on, and the engine started thrumming.

They were silent for a few minutes before Hugh decided to break the quiet and add in his unnecessary two cents.

“So, that was clean,” he said, scratching at the blood that was drying on his cheek. “Just once I want to go to kill some paranormal Son of a Bitch and _not_ leak important bodily fluids.”

“I don’t even think that deserves an answer,” May told him dryly.

“I’ll second that,” Liz said, blood drying and curling in her hair, a book that had been stuffed down the backs of one of the chairs open in her lap.

“How can you be reading? It’s the middle of the night,” May looked at her sister, eyebrows raised.

Liz looked over. “I don’t know. It’s better than talking to you two.”

Hugh raised his eyebrows, eyes flicking off the road for half a second. “Ok, we are definitely getting back to the motel. Liz always gets angry when she’s sleepy.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Why deny the truth?”

“Because she’s tired.”

“Shut up, May.”

“No, you.”

Hugh sighed and sped up a little. “Where to next? After I get my proper nine hours, of course.”

“Bobby wants to talk to us,” Liz said, holding up her phone and showing them the text the older man had sent them. “Sounds important. And dangerous.”

“And that right there is why I love Bobby,” Hugh told his sisters. “Always the bearer of good news.”

***

Bobby walked over to them, holding a book from one of his many bookshelves that lined the walls of his house.

“I still don’t understand the whole reason behind us being here, Bobby,” Hugh grumbled, struggling not to yawn on his three or so hours of sleep, pulled out of bed by an insistent May only a few hours after the Vampire hunt.

“Funny, that, If I had know why I needed you, I wouldn’t need you,” Bobby dumped the book on the eldest siblings lap and crossed the room to his chair.

May traced the symbol on the page open to them. “What does the translation say?”

Bobby sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I dunno. Some of the latin words had a huge array of different meanings. As of yet, nothing I’ve tried makes sense.”

They handed the book to Liz, who frowned down on it. After a few moments, she looked up. “I can see why this was so hard to translate, Bobby. Whoever wrote this had mangled the structure of the verbs and the deponent cases. It’s—“

“Ok, fantastic, geek out later. What does it say?” May asked, interrupting Liz.

The younger sister shot an angry look across before scanning the page again. “Basically, it seems like some sort of summoning ritual. A demon or a hell hound, maybe. Something that ‘is of hell as hell is of death’.”

Hugh frowned. “But Hell isn’t really ‘of death’. I mean, you have to be dead to get there, but from what I understand, mostly Crossroad deals and like, Bay-Watch fans end up down there.”

“And witches, of course,” May mumbled, no one really listened.

“Why so interested?”

Bobby looked worried. “I took care of a Witch in Washington the other week and this was open in her house. It looked as if she’d made some sort of sacrifice a few days before I cleaned her out.”

“Ugh, Witches, man,” Hugh said, shivering.

Liz winced in agreement.

“Got anything else for us while we dwell on that?” May asked.

“There’s been a series of odd deaths in a small town in Illinois,” Bobby suggested, throwing over a pile of newspaper clippings and other historical information about the place. “Seem to be the work of some pissed off spirit.”

“Aren’t they all,” Hugh said, sighing and picking up the papers.

“Is there anyone else in the area?” May asked, leafing through the pile.

“Why?” Bobby asked, walking over and popping a beer.

May shrugged. “I dunno. It’d be good to get to know some hunters, though.”

Bobby gave her a steady glance. “Trust me, sweetheart. There are some things that should never mix, and different hunting groups is one of them.”

***

They drove down the highway, Liz spread out in the back seat, May with her eyes stuck to the road and her hands to the steering wheel and Hugh, dozing in the passenger seat until it was his turn to drive.

"So, tell me about this ghost," May said, calling her sister into focus. "What are the, uh, 'murders' been named?"

“Six suicides, two strangling's, two stabbing's and two major head trauma's,” Liz recited, flicking through the reports as she did. “All stretched over 60 years. Two of the suicides were  in the last 6 months.”

“Are all the suicides the same?” May inquired, arching her head as far back as she could to see Liz and also keep a somewhat attentive eye on the road.

 “Sort of. Two were OD's, two were hanging's and the rest were slit wrists. No notes, for all of them.”

"Huh," May mused. "Pairs."

Liz sounded thoughtful. "Another thing then? A Pagan God that needs double sacrifices?"

May toyed with the idea, but wrinkled up her nose. "No, I don't think so. I've never heard of a Pagan God using a gun. They're so strong, they don't need to."

"So out best bet is still a Ghost," Liz sighed, collapsing back into her seat.

A silence allowed for the purr of the engine to take precedence again.

"Illinios," May muttered, pushing her foot down a little harder on the gas. "Fantastic."

* * *

_Northern Florida,_

_3rd March, 1987_

_18 Years Ago_

* * *

 

May, now Eight, flicked lazily through one of her new books that her mother had bought her, staring at the pretty pictures and reading the words with a lazy ease. She hadn't been able to read for very long, not very good at the entire learning thing, it'd taken her desperation to avoid the ridicule of the masses and diligence to get her to the stage she was at.

Hugh knocked on her door.

"Come in!" She called, throwing her book down, a little cautious of her brothers pranks.

Hugh poked his head into the room, grinning, teeth missing from where they had fallen out the other week. May had tried not to be jealous when he pulled out the Quarters from under his pillow, reminding herself that she had gotten all the money he would get from the Tooth Fairy. She supposed that that, if anything, was the curse of the older sibling. To not appreciate something until you're too old to have it.

"Mom says that dinner's ready," her brother said, stepping a little way into her room.

May's face brightened at the prospect of eating. She'd come to see her mothers cooking in a different light, ever since she had been on School Camp and she'd been forced to eat soggy kidney beans.

The lights flickered throughout the house.

The Winter Family knew nothing of just about anything to do with the supernatural, so they shrugged it off, half considered calling the electricity company and carried on with their day. May and Hugh raced to the dinner table, which was set with blue placemats and silver cutlery, and greeted their four year old sister who was finishing up the last of her dinner.

"When will Lizzy eat with us?" May asked, rushing to her sisters side, smiling at the cherubic face.

Leona smiled and smoothed back her daughters hair. "In a few years," she promised. "But she's my baby. I'm going to try and stretch it out for as long as I can."

May looked up at her mother and scrunched her nose. "But Lizzy is nearly Hugh's age!"

Her mother smiled and reached over, cleaning the spit off of Liz's face. "Not yet, though."

"Can I?" Liz asked, looking hopefully. "Please, please, please, _please,_ oh _please_ Mommy─"

Her mother laughed and looked at her children's eager faces. "Well, if it's unanimous─"

A familiar sound of a key sliding into a lock shocked May and Hugh into a running frenzy, heading, hollering, straight for the door. It opened to reveal their father, a tall, kind-faced man who, laughing, scooped them up and carried them to the kitchen as the two rattled on about their days at school. He pushed them into their chairs, where a meat loaf and glass of milk had already been set out.

"You're almost too old for that," He said, running his hand over May's head.

"Nah!" She said, looking at her mother for back up. "I'm not even slightly too big!"

Leona grinned, looking up at her husband. "Of course not. You'd never be too big for us."

Jeff laughed and clutched at my back. "I think I'm having pre-emptive back pains."

Leona pushed May's fork into her hand. "Come on, hurry up, you have to have your bath soon." She looked over at where Hugh was sitting, swinging his legs and trying to whistle. "That applies to you as well, young man."

May pouted but shovelled a mouthful of food down her throat.

 "Hey 'ugh," she managed, a little clogged with mashed potato. "Pass th' sal'?"

"May Winter, do not speak with your mouth full," Leona reprimanded, handing her daughter the salt and wiping the last of Liz's dinner from around the young girls mouth.

"Yes, Mom," May said respectfully, sprinkling the white flakes on the soft mounds of the mash. "Sorry."

Leona kissed Jeff on the cheek and pulled Liz upstairs, her small daughter already dozing in her mothers arms.

"Goodnigh', Liz," May called out, a little desperately, swallowing the very little amount of food in her mouth as her sister was carried through the door.

"Bye, May! Bye Hughy! Bye Daddy!"

"So, kids," Jeff said, sitting down the table from them, hanging his suit jacket on the seat he took up. "How was your day?"

"Excellent," May said, looking at her father excitedly. "Paul Thomas said that my hair smelled nice, and then the teacher gave me a gold star because I finished the Math questions first."

Hugh made a face. "Do you have a _boyfriend_?"

May narrowed her eyes at him and gripped her fork tight. " _No_. Ew! Boys are so _gross_!"

"Hey!"

"Come on kids," Jeff said, edging into the argument, trying to clean it up before someone ended up in tears. "Be nice."

Hugh glared at his meatloaf and May muttered under her breath.

Jeff looked as if he was about to speak, when a loud, sickening bang echoed throughout the house, a long silence drawn out afterwards.

"Le! Leona?"

Jeff's face paled when the only answer came in the form of a scream, high pitched and terrified, out of the mouth of his youngest child.

"Guys, stay here," he ordered, casting them a worried look. "I'm gonna go find mommy."

"What about Lizzy?" May asked, her eyes wide and fearful after hearing her sisters scream.

"I'll get her," Hugh said, mouth a grim line.

"No! No, stay here, take care of each other, I'll be back as soon as I can." He cast them reassuring smile and headed off to the door, fighting ever fibre of his being that wanted to scream, fighting for his children, for their sakes, for their sanity, for their peace of mind. He could remember first holding them, and he could remember first meeting her, and he felt as if he would explode for the love he felt for them all.

And all this was clear to the deemed mediocre Jeffrey Winter. In that very second.

So he turned to the children, smiled, and hoped that if they were the last words he was to say, that he'd be able to say them with enough vigour that they'd believe him.

"I love you," He said, almost lightly. "Mommy loves you too. I'll just be a moment."

By then Liz's screaming had stopped. Cutlery was left abandoned on the table next to their plates, and the milk sat untouched in front of them.

May and Hugh looked over at each other, and wondered why they felt so nauseous, and why, as they watched their father walk through that door, they wanted so desperately to grab him and run the other way.

May grabbed across the table for Hugh's hand, and though he would never admit it, he was glad that she did. He wound his fingers with hers and squeezed, and closed his eyes, blocking off the light from the lamp hanging down from the ceiling, the light of fear kindled deep and perilous inside the heart of the young girl sitting opposite and against the odd finality that seemed to shimmer in the air.

Her hand tightened against his when the first bang jumped around the house, that now seemed far too big and far too empty. Far too devoid and suddenly too alien.

May was on her feet the moment the second scream pierced the air.

* * *

_Steve's Movin' Groovin' Motel_

_St Marriane's Township, Illinois_

_23rd October, 2005_

_(Present Day)_

* * *

 

"Two queens and a trundle, please," Liz said, tapping her fingers on the desk, reciting their usual order for the stingy motels they lived in.

Night had fallen in the last hours of their journey, the final trudge before someone spat it and they just slept where they sat on the side of the road. Neon lights illuminating the vacancy gave the carpark and the front of the motel office a greenish tinge. Liz could almost remember when staying in Motels were exciting. When different colours illuminating a place to stay in a new place to see meant more than leaving behind a dump of fake names and hand-made FBI badges. That little girl anticipation had been lost, obviously. Forgotten in the errors of the repeats.

The lady clicked away on her computer. "Yes, that's fine. Under what name?"

"Jackie...uh, Reed," Liz lied, a little awkwardly, handing over the fraudulent credit card and smiling politely as the rest of the bill in was seen to.

It wasn't an ugly motel, in comparison, which meant that they were only disgusted by the eyesore, and not blinded by it. It was better than that time they had somehow ended up in a '70's themed, complete with a spinning disco ball and an owner who called himself 'Stu'.

They dumped their bags on their respective beds, Hugh sniffing when he was forced to stretch out on the trundle. The carpet was blue, and the walls and bed clothes matched. The toilet worked, a major bonus, but the shower was a good head lower than even May, and the kitchenette consisted of a sink and a broken mini-fridge. But all they needed was a place to stay, and a place to dump their stuff before they kicked off to somewhere else.

"The Life is so glamorous," Hugh muttered, folding in onto his bed, dust springing up, springs squeaking. "I love all the positive outcomes of what we do."

May rolled her eyes, certain, and rightly so, that he was being so deliberately sarcastic simply because it was his turn to sleep near the floor.

"Hey, buck up," Liz chastised, kicking him in the side, her foot tapping his ribcage. "At least you didn't pursue accounting."

"At least I don't actually use the world 'pursue'," Hugh muttered, already falling asleep.

May looked over from  where she was pulling out her track pants and old graduation shirt. "Everyone uses the word 'pursue'. What are you even talking about?"

In answer, Hugh's snores filled the spaces his hasty and arrogant answers would have been.

May walked into the bathroom, prepared herself for bed and in the way of a goodnight, gave her sister a small smile. Liz watched, a sudden bought of something that felt all too similar to nostalgia tickled her stomach, as her sister climbed into bed.

May looked over. "You ok?"

Liz blinked, a little troubled. "Yeah...it's just, well, have you ever been nostalgic for something for something you never had?"

May sort of frowned. "I think that that contradicts what nostalgia is."

"Yeah," Liz said, a little quieter, averting her eyes and distracting herself by preparing for bed. "Of course."

May felt as though she should say something, that she wasn't all awkward sentences that sounded as if she was an insensitive know-it-all. She felt as though if she was to truly save her sister, it was here, it was when the demons came, not for her body, but for her mind. She could still remember her sisters screams the night her parents died, she doubted she would ever forget, how anyone would ever be able to forget. Liz had seen it all, the furniture swinging around, colliding with their parents, blood flying to the walls. May had carried Liz after that, carried her out of the house when the police came, carried her to the police station, carried her as they were given to their uncle, carried her for the last moments until they were let into their rooms and were finally given time to cry.

Her arms had burned and she had wanted to scream. But neither mattered. Because her sister wasn't talking, she wasn't smiling, she didn't weep.

 May had climbed into bed with her when she cried out in her sleep, weeks later, holding on as tightly as she could, wanting more than anything for Liz to understand that she wasn't alone. The trembling actions of a poorly worded girl.

"Liz─"

"No, it's ok, seriously." Liz looked over and gave a swift, reassuring smile. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Liz flicked the light off and climbed into bed, not sparing her concerned sister a second glance.

May sat up in the darkness, frowning, staring at her hands, that of them she could see in the darkness, and wondering when she would get the chance to tell Lizzy that she understood exactly.

***

The next morning saw them dress up, smart skirt and jacket for Liz, dress pants and blazer for May and an itchy, despised suit for Hugh, who tightened his tie with exasperation. They slipped their FBI badges into pockets, pushed guns into holsters and made sure that there were no obvious bloodstains on their outfits.

"You're looking very smart, Hugh," May said, grinning, as she leant on the door of the bathroom, watching her brother struggle with his top button.

He glared at her through the mirror. "Thanks, you don't look so bad yourself, Nancy Drew."

May rolled her eyes and walked over to him, straightening up his tie, perhaps a little tighter than necessary and said, "You are still _five,_ Hugh, honestly. Even Liz can tie one of these dumb things."

"Liz is the smart one," Hugh reminded her as they walked out the door to the car. "She can speak fluent _Latin_ for God's sake."

"I also have the best dress sense," Liz butted in, closing the door and locking it, chucking the keys at Hugh's chest. "And the most believable lies."

"Well, congratulations," May told her, eyebrows raised. "Can't wait for your coronation. Anyway, you suck at lying."

"I think I'm going to be pre-emptively canonised," she said, grinning, ignoring May. "Saint Elizabeth. Better than you."

"You just said that you lied all the time," Hugh pointed out, all three climbing into the car. "I don't think that's very saintly behaviour."

"Fair enough," Liz conceded, rolling down the window to get some air to pass through the stuffy interior. The wind blew through her hair and around the front where May and Hugh had taken their seats.

"You're in a good mood today," May said, almost suspicious, the car starting up and moving out of the ca park.

"Where's the salt?" Hugh asked, casting a mock worried glance in her direction.

"Oh, ha ha, you funny little people," Lizzy said, rolling her eyes. "I just had a nice dream."

"Was it about me?" Hugh asked.

"No, it was about none-of-your-damn-business."

May grinned and Hugh tilted his head to the side. "Fair enough."

* * *

_St Marriane's Township Police Precinct,_

_24th October, 2005_

 

* * *

 

"Have you noticed any similarities to the murders, Officer?" May asked, glancing down at her notepad.

He looked at her oddly. "They were suicides."

"Yes, of course," She said, calm, looking up at him. "That's what I meant."

Hugh and Liz had left to see the crime scene, leaving her with the police department and hours of mind numbing seemingly irrelevant questions.

"Well, no," he still seemed uneasy, looking up at her for a split second before tapping away again at his computer. "They were suicides. Both didn't leave a note, though, which isn't too unusual."

"Could I see the bodies?" May asked, refusing to be swayed by his assurance of their randomness.

He looked even more suspicious. "No offense, but why would the Bureau be so interested in a couple of suicides?"

May flipped closed her notebook. "There have been a few suspicions put forward by the public. We just need to follow through with a routine check up."

The officer raised his eyebrows. "Complaints? Suspicions?"

"No complaints, don't worry," May smiled warmly, wondering at his unease. "Everything is fine. Also, I was wondering if you had the names of the families of the victims?"

The man was truly suspicious now. "Wouldn't that be something you'd have?"

May shook her head. "Unfortunately no. The case was very quickly put together. My partners and I were told that you'd have all the information."

"Could I call your superior?" He asked, not even trying to tone down his suggestion of her guilt.

"Sure," May said lightly, hoping that he wouldn't notice her hearts quickened pace. Bobby was always home, right? Unless he was on a case. Which she prayed that he was not. She pulled out the card and handed it over. Then she slightly overdid her smile.

Even with the phone pressed up to his ear, May could hear the dial tone. She breathed a sigh of relief when the other end clicked on. Then she chided herself and hoped that it wasn't too obvious that she'd nearly been forced to make a runner.

"Yes, hello, this is Officer Brady, of the Branwich Police Department, just inquiring─"

Bobby cut him off and, after a string of sentences only loud enough for her to catch 'Idjit' and 'total authority', Brady thanked him and turned off the phone, returning to the computer without a word and printing her off the names she wanted.

"Excellent, thanks for that," May said politely, folding the papers and pushing them into her bag and, smiling, she headed out the door.

As soon as the glass closed behind her, she let out a sigh of relief and let the cheesy smile drop from her lips. She flipped open her phone and dialled Hugh's number sitting down on the seat near the door.

"Hey," she said, when he picked up. "Find anything useful?"

" _Ectoplasm_ ," Hugh said grimly. May bit her lip and closed her eyes. " _Yep. Bobby was right. A huge surprise there_."

"Well, I suppose having an active, vengeful, very strong ghost will make it easier to find," May said.

" _Your optimism is why I keep you around_."

May narrowed her eyes. "Oh very funny, baby brother. Now come and pick me up."

* * *

_The Wyatt Household_

_3 Gardenia st, St Marriane's Township, Illinois_

_24th October, 2005_

 

* * *

 

"We understand how difficult this must be for you, Mr. Wyatt," Liz said consolingly, her acting typically terrible, but real empathy leeching from her words. "But we need to know everything."

They were at the first victims house. Jessica Wyatt, 16, suicide by an OD.

The man blinked the tears from his eyes. "My Jessica never hurt nobody. She ain't never been mean, or vicious. She was a damn good kid."

"We understand," Hugh said. "We're going to ask some questions. No matter how odd they sound, we need you to answer them, ok?"

The man nodded, posing as stoic.

May piped in, "Sorry to ask, but do you have a bathroom I could use?"

Mr. Wyatt blinked in surprise. "Uh, yeah. Just up the stairs."

May left, the EMF a bulge in her pocket.

Hugh turned to the Father of the suicide victim. "So, was there any flickering lights? Odd sounds? Anything unusual on the day that she died?"

The old man frowned. "A little of flickerin' here and there, I suppose. But nothing too serious."

"Any noises?" Liz persisted.

The man looked a little lost. "I was workin' for most of the day, didn' get home till..." the tears welled up again. "Till it was too late." His voice was thick.

"Was Jess acting strange? Did she seem distracted to you? Out of sorts?"

Mr. Wyatt shrugged. He looked as if he was done answering questions. "I dunno. You could ask at her school. She has...had some friends. They'd care to speak to ya."

***

May, Hugh and Liz all exited the house half an hour later, brooding over the new developments.

Hugh scratched the top of his head. "So, we're almost definitely dealing with a vengeful spirit─"

"Or just a bored spirit," May put in. "It didn't sound like the ghost would have much on Jessica."

"There was ectoplasm in her bedroom, and the EMF was through the roof," Liz reminded her. "I'm pretty sure we're dealing with something a little stronger."

May raised her eyebrows. "I'm just saying, it doesn't make much sense."

The three siblings climbed in the car.

There was a pause as Hugh turned the ignition and the others strapped themselves in.

"It could have been a witch," May suggested.

Hugh turned to her, giving her a look. "Your obsession with witches is kind of creeping me out."

"Are you considering becoming a Witch? Because I'm pretty sure Bobby has a pamphlet for that sort of thing." Liz looked at her sister through the rear vision mirror.

May rolled her eyes. "If you weren't both occasionally entertaining, I would have dumped you both at a Mental Ward years ago."

"Anyway, this isn't the middle ages, we can't just go blaming witches for everything," Hugh told her, turning down the road that lead to the school.

"Yeah, because blaming spirits is so much more realistic," May said, frowning at Hugh.

"We have such weird conversations," Liz muttered.

"Remember that time we talked about dragon reproduction for half an hour?" May asked.

"No," Hugh dismissed.

"Oh, I remember!" Liz said, slowly grinning. "We kept wondering about the, uh...tail and how it all, um, _worked_ in regards to that."

"No we weren't," Hugh said, quickly. A little too quickly.

"Painful memory, little brother?" May asked, fully intending to tease him for it for as long as he lived.

Hugh struggled for an answer, before settling for a "Shut up."

Embarrassment, smugness and hilarity made for an odd combination as the car drove the last minutes before arriving at the High School. Not an entirely awful one, and definitely not a good one; simply weird, and slightly uncomfortable.

They walked up to the school, trying to ignore the odd looks their professional clothes were given.

May sidled up to Liz. "Hey, fancy doing some undercover work?"

Liz glared at her. "I'm 22."

"Uh, that's not what your birth certificate said last year."

"Yeah, it said I was 21."

May smiled. "Oh really? Because I seem to remember that in this town in Oklahoma, there was this haunting in this old school, and we didn't have anyone who could go, so you did, and it was hilarious because you got asked out by this really nerdy 17 year old─"

Liz rolled her eyes. "Whatever, May. Is it your life's mission to make everyone as uncomfortable as possible?"

May spread her hands out in mock outrage. "Hey, I'm the oldest, there must be some perks."

"You get to sit in the front."

"So does Hugh."

"That statement is true," Hugh called back, leading them up the stairs and into the school.

"You get first pick of the movie."

"When was the last time we watched a movie?"

"Last week."

"Sorry, can't hear you over how many perks I still deserve."

Liz just huffed and rolled her eyes.

They walked over to the reception and smiled convincingly at the receptionist. After a brief show of their badges (they really were quite badly put together this time round) she lead them to a classroom, pulling out a young boy and girl, who looked at the Winter Siblings with a little apprehension.

"Hello, I'm Agent Ross, these are my colleges Angus and Lennox," May said, once they were given an empty classroom.

The windows allowed the light from the cloudy day to fill the room with a greyish sort of light. The blackboard in behind where they were sitting had the remnants of a history lecture, and the desks were set up in neat, yet squished rows.

"You're an FBI agent?" The girl asked Liz, who was fiddling with the end of her skirt.

"Uh, yes," Liz replied, only slightly wary, which was a very large improvement from the first time she was asked that question, which resulted in them being forced to leave and calling Bobby to send someone over to finish cleaning up the mess.

"Hmph," she said, unimpressed.

"Anyway, we just have a few questions about Jessica Wyatt," May said.

"I'll take Owen, if you want to stay with Chelsea," Hugh offered, staring down the boy who hadn't said a word.

"Jess committed suicide," Chelsea said.

"That's right."

She shared a confused look with her friend before he was lead out. The door slammed as it closed.

She turned to the sisters. "Look, whatever's happened, Owen and I had nothing to do with it, I swear."

May looked over at her and gave a small smile. "We just have a few questions regarding her school life and how she was acting before she died."

"A little...weird, to tell you the truth," Chelsea said, looking a little uncomfortable. "I mean, she'd never been lovely, but she was starting to, well, I don't really have the place to say it, but she started picking on this one new girl. And it started getting really bad."

May frowned. "Her Father said that she was almost the exact opposite."

Chelsea pursed her lips. "Jess hated her Father. He was never home for her, and he drank heaps after her Mom died. I got the impression that the feeling was mutual."

"He was pretty torn up over her death," Liz pointed out.

Chelsea frowned. "Well, yeah. I mean, everyone knows it was his fault she OD'd in the first place."

May shared a quick look with Liz. The vengeful spirit was starting to make more sense. If it was attacking people who wronged the girl that Jess had been bullying, then they might have a lead.

Chelsea watched their silent exchange, a little bored. "So, what's with the questions anyway? I didn't think the FBI investigated suicides."

"We don't," May told her shortly. She looked up and smiled at the young girl, who was slowly putting together what their presence following the death of her friend meant. "Thank you for your time. Now, what was the name of the girl Jessica was bullying?"

"Louise Richards," Chelsea said, a little dazed. "But what─"

"Thanks for talking with us," Liz interrupted, herding her out the door. "You can make your own way back to your classroom?"

"Yeah, but─"

The door closed on whatever Chelsea had to say.

May stood up and started walked up and down the length of the classroom. "So if Jess was truly an awful person, then there's a good chance that the spirit might be attacking bullies."

"Or it could be a member of the girls family," Liz suggested, moving away from the door. "Someone super family-minded."

"Mmm," May said, still unconvinced that they'd breached the correct reason behind the spirits existence.

A knock on the door startled them, and without any more warning, Hugh opened it and walked through. "Hey."

"Hi," Liz greeted. "Find anything?"

"Just that Jess wasn't the saint her Father made her out to be," Hugh said, sighing. "She did some pretty awful stuff when she was at school."

"Yeah, that's what we got," May said, sighing and sitting down on one of the desks.

"You get a name?" Liz asked. "We got Louise Richards."

Hugh frowned. "Uh, no. I have Eric Palmer. He killed himself two months ago. Drug overdose. Jess bullied him, according to Owen. Really badly at that."

The realisation settled into May first. "Oh no. Oh my God."

"What?" Hugh asked.

"You always were slow on the uptake, little brother," May said wryly. "The Spirit. It's not a protector, it's delivering justice. That boy? He committed suicide a week before Jessica."

They left quickly after that, a small window of freedom used as an opportunity to grab some late lunch, mull over all they knew, group the salt rounds and the iron knives and prepare all they had in combat with a spirit.

The day passed as they mulled over information, and then the next day after that. Combing, understanding, interviewing.

Three days passed.

And the spirit was not spotted, by anyone. Not once.


	3. The Vigilante, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow thewxnterchxldren.tumblr.com to get updates via that.

**JOB 1: _THE VIGILANTE_**

* * *

 

_Steve's Movin' Grovin' Motel_

_St Marriane's Township, Illinois_

_November 1st, 2005_

* * *

 

"Do we know where it'll strike next?" Liz asked as they sat around the motel, changed into the traditional jacket and jeans that most hunters donned.

Days had passed; slow and boring. The lack of the ghosts activity was disconcerting, the lack of information, the lack of someone appropriately guilty to have the Spirit hanging over their conscience. Lunch had been mainly burgers, much to May's dismay, and breakfast had been rationed off as slightly stale salted nuts that Hugh had pulled out from the bottom of his bag.

So far, a typical week or so.

"There have been six unsolved murders in this town over the past 50 years. I'm going to say that the ghost has accounted for half of them, the head trauma, the strangling and the gunshot wounds," Hugh relayed, yet again, shifting through all the material Bobby had given them, again.

"Looks like we'll have to solve this one the really-sort-of-difficult-way." Liz pushed her hair back from her face and sighed. "Ready to head to the library, May?"

May stuffed the gun down the back of her jeans. "I was born ready."

Hugh frowned. "You're taking a gun to a library?"

May widened her eyes. "Haven't you heard? There's a psycho ghost running around."

Liz rolled her eyes.

They opened the door, and before they could leave, Hugh cleared his throat. "So uh, what am I supposed to do?"

May shared a look with Liz. "I dunno, Hugh. Go hustle some pool or something."

Hugh frowned. "No thanks. Hustling pool is for people who suck at fraud."

Liz sighed. "Fine. But if you come with us, and get us kicked out again, I have the cordially allowed permission to kick your ass."

Hugh shrugged on his jacket and just smiled, walking out the door.

* * *

_Albury, Washington State_

_May 5th, 1988_

_(17 Years Ago)_

* * *

 

After the accident, Lizzy, May and Hugh had gone to live with their uncle. Richard was a removed man, who preferred late night television to phone calls and a pair of ruffian dogs in exchange for a spouse and kids. Rick had been their fathers brother, having had very little contact with his nieces and nephew ever since the two greatly disagreed on a Matter of Great Importance. But Jeff hadn't thought of revising his Will, and the legal guardianship of his three children, and so, when the time came, Rick welcomed them, gruffly and with no small amount of shyness, to his home.

The year between the funeral and the Discovery was the worst in May's memory. Rick had seemed oddly distant for a few weeks after their moving, sometimes leaving for the entire night. School had been awful. Rick had lived on the other side of the state to them, and transferring was inevitable, but that didn't mean May had to like it.

A year passed and she made not one friend. Lizzy started school, and Hugh moved up a year, and still the Winters were a family very few people really knew.

May walked home one Friday in November. Josie Fisher's mom had offered to drive them, but she had refused for herself when doing a mental calculation of how much alone time she would get if she let only Hugh and Lizzy take the vacant seats, begging a deep desire for exercise.

The leaves were a crisp brown in the trees, trailing along the ground, crouching in corners and gathering in piles where raked up on the grass. Winter was near, and the cold wind that rushed through with a vehemence, chilling the slightly-too-thin nine year old to the very bone.

It was times like these that May allowed herself to think of things that she felt a typical girl of her age would think about. She thought about the newest pair of shoes that she'd seen Louise Johnstone wearing, or the new song that Max Irons had been singing all through English, and then most of the way through Math. She thought of the way her hair looked when curled, in comparison to when it fell straight after she had washed it, and the small curls that seemed to pop up around the top of her temple.

And she gladly entertained these thoughts, for they were a shield that kept the dark ones at bay. Even the happy memories were stabs of pain that ricocheted with agonising accuracy. Pinball's of fire and sinister darkness that seemed rocks that hurtled towards the ocean.  Everyone spoke of the widely entertained fact that after a death, the bad memories fade and all that you are left with is the good, and the ones worth remembering, but no one told you that those were the ones that hurt the most.

May dragged her feet the last ten feet to her house, considering backtracking as she made it to the door and then running away when she pressed the doorbell. She looked mournfully back and regretfully forward, not realising, that if she tried, a simple glance to the driveway would have given the curious discovery of a large black car, that a more learned person might call a '67 Impala.

Hugh opened the door, and May walked in through, smiling briefly at him, making to walk through.

"We've got people over," Hugh told her, standing back as she took her shoes off and closed the door.

"Wait, what?" May asked, glancing down the hallway into the kitchen, where two deep voices could be heard. Her eyes turned wide. " _Who?_ "

Hugh shrugged. "This guy who Rick said was his friend. He brought his sons as well. They're ok."

May dumped her bag by the door, with a half-hearted promise that she'd collect it and take it upstairs to the room she shared with Liz eventually, and walked with Hugh down the hall.

"Why are they just ok?" May asked, whispering a little.

Hugh sniffed a bit. "Dean isn't very good at sharing."

They came into the kitchen and May saw the man that was sitting at the breakfast bar, nursing a beer and a smile.

He turned to her, his smile growing in size in a way of greeting. "Hello, you must be May. Very pleased to meet you. I'm John."

May smiled in her hesitant, unsure, I-don't-really-know-you smile. "Pleased to meet you as well. Good afternoon, Rick."

"Hey, May," Rick said, nodding at her. "Hugh, why don't you take both of you 'round to the back where the boys and Liz are?"

"Sure thing," Hugh said. "C'mon, May."

"Sure was nice meeting you, May," John called as they walked out the back door.

"You too!" She called back, almost too far away for it to sound sincere.

"Did Josie Fishers's mom drive you home ok?" May asked, as she and Hugh walked around the clothe lines to where the large grassy area was, perfect for picnics or mock wars.

"Yeah," was Hugh's non-committal grunt. "Josie's mom smells a lot like oranges."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

Hugh frowned. "Good question. I'm gonna say bad."

May wrinkled her nose. "Like when you get oranges on your fingers?"

"Exactly then."

They walked across the grass to where Liz sat, two boys across from her, each controlling a tiny figurine.

The older boy, who must have been about her age, looked up and nodded at them as they approached. The other, a boy who must have been Liz's age with a shock of unruly brown hair, jumped up to meet them.

"Hi," he said, smiling and sticking out his hand. "I'm Sammy."

"Nice to meet you," May said, smiling a small, uncertain smile and shaking his hand. "I'm May."

 "I'm Dean," the boy who was still sitting down said, who had hair a few shades lighter than his brothers and eyes a more intense green. "Dean Winchester."

"Good to meet you, too," May said, sitting down next to Liz who was controlling a tiny horse. "Hey, Liz."

"Hiya, May," Liz said, not turning her head, eyes fixed on the tiny stallion in her grasp. "Josie Fishers's mom sure smells like oranges."

Hugh turned, grinning. "That's what _I_ said!"

Sammy had sat down next to Dean. "Nice oranges or bad oranges?"

Liz looked up. "Oh, bad, not nice at all."

"Like when you get orange juice on your hands," Hugh explained. "And it takes forever to wash it off."

"Oh, yeah," Dean nodded. "Not as bad as when you spill water on cheese, though."

"Is that a really bad smell?" May asked. "Does the smell really change at all?"

Dean wrinkled up his nose. "Well, not really, except Sandy Plankton told me when we were living in New York that it did and he's never wrong."

 "Maybe we should try it out," Hugh suggested. "Let's just hope nothing explodes."

"Don't be silly," Liz said. "Cheese can't explode."

"It could if you put it inside an _explosion_."

Liz frowned and turned to Sammy. "Sammy, could cheese explode?"

The young boy frowned. "Hmm. Well, I don't see why. Or why not."

May grinned and tried to stop herself from giggling. She locked eyes with Dean, who was smiling for the first time since she'd met him, which, admittedly, wasn't a very long time ago.

At that moment, Ian and Ruff decided to make an entrance, spinning through the game and knocking the pieces over.

Hugh laughed in a sort of strangled victory and leapt at them, tackling Ruff into a tackle and rolling over in the dirt.

Liz looked at the ruin of her game as if she was about to cry. "Hugh!"

Ian came over and licked her in the face, but, glaring, she pushed him away. "You ruin _everything!_ "

"Hey, come on, it's not so bad," May said, a little desperately. She couldn't stand it when Liz cried. She righted a couple of the toys. "Look, they're still fine. We'll just set it up again."

"Hey, it's ok," Sammy said, who was watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. "I'll help too."

May caught Dean casting her an odd look, a sort of empathetic soldiers glance. She had seen the body language, the eyes that watched his younger brothers back at a near constant rate. She had remembered how her eyes rarely left her siblings, that if they fell over, it was her that should have caught them. If it was them that was crying, it was her fault for letting something into their lives that was so awful that it elicited tears. She shot him a small smile and returned to helping Lizzy set up everything that she had knocked over.

Dean sat back on his heels when the four had finished, with Hugh's whoops of excitement from playing with the two dogs signifying the fifth of their party. Ian cautiously moved away and started padding through the other children, eyes wide and excited, tail wagging from side to side. Liz was shyly thanking Sammy and Dean for their help when Ian lay down next to the younger Winchester boy. Sam started, then, as if on instinct, stretched out his hand and rubbed the dogs stomach.

May watched, a small smile flickering at the corners of her lips. "I think he likes you, Sam."

Sam looked up, torn between apprehension and exhilaration. "Really?"

"Be careful, Sammy," Dean said worriedly, who looked as if he would jump in any moment he thought the situation was getting too out of hand. "Not all dogs are nice."

Hugh came over, panting, and planted himself down between May and Dean. "Ian's really nice though. And he loves kids, or at least that's what uncle Rick said."

Sammy smiled. "Good. He's super soft."

Liz moved over and started rubbing Ian's stomach as well. May regarded privately that the dog looked as if he was in heaven. "Yeah. May and me washed him last Monday. Didn't we May?"

"Yeah," May said, hugging her knees to her chest to try and push away the ache that sometimes appeared out of the blue. "Yeah we did."

***

Dean and May were the only ones awake when Rick and John told them that they were going out. Liz had fallen asleep in her bed the moment her head had touched the pillow, and Hugh, after running around the house and burning off the cordial he'd drunk when eating dinner, was almost asleep when May had come in to say goodnight. Sam was curled up on a blow-up mattress in the spare room, his breathing deep and calm.

"Will you be coming back?" May had asked, scared of what might happen without her uncle in the dark of their house.

Rick chuckled and ruffled her hair, their relationship still too awkward for a hug. "Of course."

John had been a bit shorter with his son. "Remember the rules, Dean."

Dean looked up, solemn. "Yes sir."

"Go to bed at 9:00 at the latest," Rick called back, as he and John walked out the door. "And stay safe!"

May and Dean watched the door as it slammed from the other side of the hall, both flinching at the loud bang. The stood, frozen with a reluctance to make the situation any more awkward and then at the overwhelming fear of what could loom in the shadows that seemed ever larger without the safety of their guardians.

May spoke first, a little tentative. "So, you wanna watch some tv?"

Dean looked over and nodded. "Yeah, definitely. You got colour?"

May lead him to the living room. "Nah. Rick says that we might next year though."

They sat down on the couch, and after looking through soap opera after reality show, they decided to settle on a talent show.

"So where do you live?" May asked, passing a bowl of ships down the couch.

Dean shrugged. "Nowhere, not really."

May frowned. "But where do you go to school?"

Dean swallowed his mouthful. "Well, Dad says that we'll be going to your school because he's doing a job here."

May blinked. "Oh."

"..."

"..."

"So what does your dad do?" the words fell awkward and broken from May's lips.

Dean looked at her carefully. "Uh, well, he does what Rick does."

May frowned, confused. "A mechanic?"

Dean looked a little disappointed. "Yeah. A mechanic."

"Oh, nice," May mumbled, resting her head back on the pillow of the couch and tucking her legs under herself. "Seems kind of dangerous, though. Once he broke his arm."

Dean looked cautious, a little too cautious, as he continued. "Yeah. Dad once had to get stitches."

May winced in sympathy. "Ouch."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "He's still got the scars."

She started fiddling with a pillow. "So why are you here again? And where are you staying?"

Dean frowned. "Didn't Rick tell you? We're staying here, or so my dad says. Some couple has a real...uh, Lamborghini problem."

"What colour is lamborghini?" May asked. "Is it like a type of blue, or...?"

Dean looked at her, flabergasted. "How...just... _what_?"

May gave him a look.

Dean gave May a look.

They had a bit of a frown off.

They jumped, nearly out of their skin, when footsteps, as if the claws on a dog but so much louder, echoed down the hall.

May sank into the couch and held the pillow in front of her chest, breathing heavily, eyes darting from the moving pictures on the TV screen to the rest of the room, all the lights on, every shadow within the realm of possibility eradicated. She glanced over at Dean, who was doing almost the exact opposite. He jumped onto his feet, face set, and picked up a candlestick from a cabinet near where they were sitting.

The footsteps stopped.

And then came the telltale sound of feet on the carpet of the stairs.

The blood drained from May's face. She shared a horrified look with her male counterpart, grabbed the nearest hard thing she could, which was the mini statue of some ancient god, and, steeling her nerves and biting down on her tongue, moved out through the door, to the stairs, Dean following her.

At the first step, Dean gestured that he should take the lead.

May shook her head, mind elsewhere, eyes blazing.

"Hugh and Liz are up there," she whispered to him. "I can't let anything happen to them."

Before Dean could hiss something back she was up the stairs, sweat gathering on her palms, her hands having trouble grasping the slick figurine, she ran up them, swift and practiced.

Dean headed straight for the guest room, swinging the door open, looking back at May and shaking his head, a exalting a mixture of relief and concern.

May tried not to cry as she peeled back the door from the room she slept in, the one she shared with Liz. All she saw was the slow rise and fall of her sisters chest, and moonlight that streamed through the unchecked window.

May shook her head at Dean, who was moving onto Hugh's room.

She met him there as the door slowly opened.

May forced herself to stifle a scream.

The creature was hideous.

And it had its giant teeth positioned over her brothers head.

"Cuco," Dean muttered, stumbling back, eyes wide. "Son of a bitch."

May was too petrified to scold his language. She was too numb to even register that he'd said anything at all.

Monsters were real.

It was taller than her uncle, and twice as wide, humanoid facial features curving around massive teeth that pouted out like trunks, and burning red eyes that seized the sight of her as soon as she had entered.

They stood like that for a while, the young, scared girl and the salivating, gruesome beast.

A grey hide and a snarling nose, a hand full of claws and feet that scratched the floor. A body of disfiguration and a stare of absolute _starvation_. These would be the food of her nightmares for weeks.

But she had found herself then. She found herself when she saw how close it had been for her brother. She saw how close his death had been, how she'd have to hold her sisters hand again as they sat in a church full of people they didn't really know, wearing black clothes they didn't really own.

She found herself, and she stared right back at it. "Leave him _alone_!"

She held up the figurine as it growled, the hairs on the back of her neck rising up. All this and she hadn't noticed Dean disappearing, streaking off through the house, desperately looking through his dads things, hoping, _praying_ , that not everything had been left in the Impala tonight.

His hunched over, shoulders rolling, a mountain of muscle and strength. She swallowed and bent her knees and separated her feet, remembering once, from somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, her dad warning her that if she was going to land a punch, she'd best be standing properly. May wasn't fighting with her fists, and she wasn't sure exactly how she was supposed to be standing, but the warmth and the laughter from the memory was the first of her parents that hadn't hurt in a year, and that light gave her strength.

It walked forward, a heavy huff, as if a lizard on sand.

May resisted the urge to close her eyes and cry.

She ducked as it came forward, sliding between its legs on the cheap carpet, a burn scorching up her leg.

The monster turned and swiped at her with its claw, emitting little more than a growl. May wondered whether it could make more noise than that, or it didn't regard her as something to yell at.

Either way, she didn't have enough time for deliberations.

The claw cut at the skin of her stomach as she jumped back, hitting the ground hard as the blood steeped through her shirt.

She gasped and crawled back, grasping her stomach and crying out when her hands came back sticky with blood. A foot clamped down on her legs and another on her arm, forcing her to lie back on the floor. It's mouth opened, a fountain of noxious breath released onto her and she was too petrified to cough.

Here she would die, in a dark room, with eyes as red as the fires of hell fixated on her beating heart and gasping lungs. Her end would come soon, so she believed. And she found herself not wanting to die. A curious experience.

Gunshots were louder than May would have thought.

A bang, one that rattled her ears and startled her so much that she lay on the ground for a good few minutes after the monster had been shaken off her, rang throughout the house.

"Pure iron, you Son of Bitch," Dean called, shooting it three more times in a rapid succession. "Try waking up from this one in the morning."

"May?" the frightened, sleepy voice of her brother called as he was shaken from his sleep. "May?"

The Cuco still didn't roar, but its teeth gnashed together and its claws grabbed at its side, where thick black blood was leaking through onto the carpet.

May pulled herself up and moved over to the foot of the bed, trying not to go into shock as she planted her hands firmly on her wound.

She looked over at Hugh, who was looking at the Cuco with utter horror.

She tried to smile. "It's ok." The swallowed a sob. "It's ok, I won't let it get you."

Dean clicked more bullets into the gun, an eerie practiced grace controlling his features.

"See you in hell," he muttered, the bullets ripping through the air, the iron finally making itself felt, the creature arching it's back in agony, its soundlessness even more eerie than usual.

And it crumbled, disappearing as a sweep of dust that ran along the ground, collapsing in a heap, a mound of ashes where this monster once stood.

May bit her lip to avoid calling out in pain as she stood up, her hands were red with her own blood, and she avoided that thought with all her might, worrying that, with everything, she'd faint.

"Is it...gone?" Hugh asked, his voice was small.

Dean walked over and kicked the dust. "Yeah, I think so. Dad always said iron would─"

"You said your Dad was a mechanic," May accused, tears welling up in her eyes. _You'd told me everything was normal, you'd let met believe that everything was fine._ She couldn't bring herself to utter the words she so desperately wanted to.

Dean looked as if he understood. And he looked as if he feared the accusations she didn't say. And May wondered if Sammy knew. And she wondered how long Dean had known. And then she allowed herself less than a peep at what would have happened if he _hadn't_ known...

No. _No._

She _couldn't_ let herself think like that.

Hugh was ok, Liz was ok. Dean was apologetic, Sammy was safe. She was verging on hysterical.

"Shit, May!" Dean rushed over, looking at her stomach. "You're bleeding!"

May was barely keeping herself ordered. "I know."

"C'mon, Dad'll have some bandages in his stuff," Dean tugged on her arm, looking up from the scratch. He turned to Hugh. "Get us some water, could you?"

Hugh blinked, swallowed, and nodded, giving May a determined glance.

It seemed that he understood that she would do anything to keep him safe. And he needed her to know, even if for just a moment, that he would return the favour.

May and Rick and Hugh sat in the living room until the morning light that night.

Liz and Sammy had been disorientated and easily confused into believing nightmares over reality.

Rick told the two older ones all he dared.

May's scratches weren't serious, they wouldn't even scar. But she ran her hand over them, tears in her eyes nonetheless.

Just because they wouldn't scar meant that she wouldn't remember them.

The three jagged crosses that ran over the front of her stomach.

Signifying the end of her innocence, for the second time.

And they wouldn't even _scar_.

* * *

_The Public Library_

_St Marianne's Township, Illinois_

_1st November 2005_

_(Present Day)_

* * *

 

After the travesty that was their research up to that point, May, Liz and Hugh decided to look at more recent episodes.

"Wait, wait, here," May stopped scrolling and went back up to where Liz was pointing. "Hit and Run."

"Douglas Stream, 24...hey same age as me, that's sort of soul-searchy and creepy," he smiled at Liz and May who were beyond exasperated. "Anyway. Apprenticeship with the local mechanic...killed the 29th of October. Police are asking for witnesses to come forward."

Liz frowned and tapped a few keys, trying to get the updated story.

May tilted back in her chair, yawned and stretched. "I seriously hope this is our guy. I refuse to sit through another solved murder case."

"People think that you're a psychopath," Hugh told her.

"People are _correct_ that you're insane."

Hugh gave her a look. "That's an insult to insults."

" _You're_ an insult to insults."

"God, May, how am I _ever_ going to get over that?"

Liz glared, her gaze not shifting from the computer. "Can you both shut _up_?"

Hugh and May didn't say anything for a record of three seconds.

"We really need our own computer," May muttered, shooting a shifty looking guy a look. "Even Gordon has his own laptop."

"Wait, even _Gordon_ has a laptop now?" Hugh asked, dismayed. "Damn it. I wanted to at least beat _him_."

"Well it isn't the '90's," Liz muttered.

"Why _haven't_ we gotten one yet?" May looked accusingly at Hugh.

"Hey," he said. "We have to wait for the next one to come out, it's supposed to be way better."

"You could say that about everything for _years_ ," May said, groaning. "I think we all know what the next family shopping trip will be."

"Sounds like fun," Liz said. "But I've found something funner─"

"That's not a word," May reprimanded instinctively.

Liz, confused; "What?"

"Funner."

Liz gave her best 'I don't care' look. "Whatever. Anyway, Douglas's murder hasn't been solved, well, as of the Newspaper on Monday."

"Got any family?" May pulled her seat forward next to Liz's and in front of the screen.

"His parents and sister, Lauren all live together," Liz relayed. "East St Marianne's Township."

"Well, it couldn't hurt to pay them a visit," May said, smirking and tapping the FBI badge she'd been fidgeting with.

* * *

 

_The Booth Household,_

_5 Fountain Place, St Marriane's Township_

_1st November 2005_

* * *

 

"What do _you_ understand happened on the night of October 29th?" May asked, tapping her pen on her notepad.

Lauren took a deep breath. "Doug was out running, he'd told his girlfriend that he needed some air. Then, while he was out, a car came around and hit him. The only witness said that it looked like the car was going after him, but the police found lots of drink in this guys system, so they said that they have to deal with his evidence with a great deal of scrutiny. Then they drove off, the witness stating that they'd sped, and that they'd been..." she grimaced. "laughing."

May nodded. "So, tell us about your brother."

"Doug was a good guy. He didn't have any enemies, everyone liked him," Lauren had her hands gathered on her lap as they sat in the family home. "He was going to marry his girlfriend this Winter, and he was doing well in his apprenticeship."

Tears filled her eyes. One snaked down and caught onto her lip.

"He didn't deserve to die."

"Of course he didn't," Liz said kindly, her heart breaking, as it did for every weeping family they visited.  "But are you sure that there was no one who'd have a reason to kill him?"

Lauren shook her head. "He was perfect, he was a great big brother. That'd why I was handing out the flyers. I thought that maybe _someone_..."

She looked at her hands.

"Who do _you_ think killed him?" May asked. "You must have at least a _suspicion_..."

"Anything," Hugh said, looking at her firmly.

Lauren bit her lip, but shook her head. "Sorry. I've been so...distracted the past few days. The funeral's tomorrow, we just got the go ahead from the Coroner's office the other day..."

"That's fine," Liz said, softly, comfortingly. "Please, mourn your brother. We don't have any other questions."

"But if you do think of something," May added, a sharper contrast to Liz's lilting tones. She handed a business card over to Lauren. "Call us."

* * *

 

_Roy's Diner_  


_St Marriane's Township, Illinois_

_November 1st, 2005_

 

* * *

 

Hugh picked at his salad. The diner was busier at night, and May, Liz and he had decided to leave the rest of the interviews for the next day, exhausted as it was with all that they had done so far.

"This is dumb, I hate salad," he complained, loudly.

"You're dumb," May muttered, looking as if she took it as a personal offense.

"You're both _ridiculous_ ," Liz stated, already finished her salad, and was relaxing her elbows on the table.

"I'm going to ask _again_ why this is necessary," Hugh said, making a face as he pulled out an unnaturally long and soggy piece of green from his plate.

"Because if we die before the age of 30, I don't want it to be because of High Cholesterol," May told them, in a voice that understood repetition.

"That's dumb," Hugh said, throwing his fork into the bowl. "I don't even think this is salad."

"Can you please stop calling things 'dumb'?" Liz asked, exasperated.

"No."

"Uh, yes!"

"Make me."

"Let's take this outside and I will."

"Ok!" May interjected. "Let's not have too much fun with the death threats."

"I am getting better at them," Liz said, taking a swig of her beer.

May frowned. "I don't think that's a good thing."

"I do," Hugh said. "I mean, it's a creative outlet, isn't it?"

"I didn't even use the words 'kill' or 'maim' this time."

Hugh grinned and ruffled the top of her head. "Good for you, little baby sister. You know what all the English teachers said, 'show not tell'."

"I got an A on that report."

"I have the weirdest family," May told them, and herself.

"But you love us," Hugh said, in a stupid, irritating, glare eliciting voice.

"No."

"But─"

"No."

"May c'mo─"

"No."

"Can we go back to the motel now?" Liz pleaded.

May gave her a look.

Liz gave her a look back.

Hugh gave another look.

There was a weird sort of not-silence at their table for a good half a minute.

Then, eyes watering, grins on their faces, they paid, walked out to the car and even May agreed that the next time they came, it'd be a huge batch of fries, the greasier the better.

If only the bravado and happiness of that evening, could have been carried into the night.


	4. The Vigilante, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just thought you should know that the tumblr thewxnterchxldren.tumblr.com has all the updates for the fic.  
> Thanks!

* * *

 

_The House of Douglas Stream and Kay Smith_

_4 Glenbrook Avenue, St Marriane's Township, Illinois_

_2nd November, 2005_

* * *

 

Douglas Stream's fiancée sat opposite Hugh, a nervous twitch sparking every few moments in her right eyebrow.

A good sign that either she had minor muscle damage, was nervous about something or enjoyed twitching her eyebrow.

Her medical form and the situation lead Hugh to believe it was the second of the three.

"What can you tell us about the night of Douglas's death?"

Kay took a deep breath, hands scrunched on her lap. "I...look, I've already _answered_ all these questions─"

"Humour me," Hugh said, bending forward.

May and Liz were still researching who their ghost could be. So far they had a list of 'perhaps' and a longer list of 'definitely no's'.

Kay squeezed her hand, her eyes started dampening. "I loved Doug. I loved him more than anything. We were going to get married. Please don't make me go through this again."

"Can you please, Kay. We just want to help you as much as we can. Don't you want your husband to rest in peace?"

Kay gave a watery ghost of a smile. "Ok, yes, of course. Well, uh, we were just...talking, then I went up to our room, he had gone for a run by then─"

"Why did he go?"

"He had had a bad day," she explained. "His sister had been on him to help out with their Dad, who's got this really serious lung condition, but Doug...well, Doug said that he needed to focus on his career."

Hugh frowned. "That's a bit cold, isn't it?"

Kay shrugged. "Not really. Doug supported me and he basically supported them. We hardly ever had any money because of it. I suppose he just grew to resent them."

"Ok, so what can you tell me about any enemies he might have had?"

Kay closed her eyes and frowned. Then she shook her head. "I mean, he wasn't the most loved member of the neighbourhood, but no one _hated_ him."

Hugh nodded and wrote 'Ben and Jerry's' in his notepad to keep up appearances. "Ok, final question here, what were you doing when Doug was killed?"

Kay blinked, her shock, if for a moment, halting her tears. "I was...I, uh, I had a shower."

Hugh noticed her eyebrow twitching again. "Really?"

She nodded, resolute. "I went upstairs, and then I got out of the shower."

Hugh frowned. "That's an odd way to phrase it."

Kay shrugged. "Well that's what happened."

Hugh bit back a sigh and underlined 'Ben and Jerry's' twice, for appearances of course. Not because he was going to try and convince May that it was pinnacle towards their case. No way.

Kay glanced over, fiddling with the threads of her skirt. "So, uh, are we finished?"

Hugh nodded. He stood. "Before I go, do you mind if I use the bathroom?"

The house that the late Douglas Stream had shared with his wife-to-be was a small one, the ones that even though clean and comfortable, you could tell had only a few years left before serious repairs would be needed. Quaint, squashed onto half a block and smelling of it being left to someone dear to the deceased in a will.

Kay jumped up. "Uh, yeah. But...just please, _please_ don't take anything."

Hugh grinned. "You don't trust your friendly FBI agents?"

Kay shrugged, hugging her arms close to herself. "I don't know. You hear the stories."

"Wait, what?"

"Of FBI agents who steal things."

Hugh frowned. "I don't think you should keep in touch with whoever told you those stories."

Kay frowned.

Hugh headed off, sparing his favourite disarming grin (it made May convulse on the ground with laughter and Liz to poke fun at him for the next few weeks at least, but it worked, Hugh was sure) and headed up the stairs.

The first room he entered couldn't have been anything but the bedroom, a queen bed with a doorway leading to what must have been an ensuite, a walk in robe, a chest of draws and a window that overlook the street and front lawn. The window jutted out into the wall, allowing room for a seat to stretch across, a bookshelf sat suspended above the chest and pictures of Kay grinning at the camera in places all over the world hung as trophys on the wall.

Hugh, a chill running down his spine, realised, in an instant, his eyes widening, his heart pumping, that there was not a single picture of Douglas.

And now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember any downstairs.

Trying not to jump to any conclusions (I mean, Kay seemed perfectly normal, nice, heartbroken. Sure she didn't trust Hugh to go through her stuff without taking anything, but he wasn't technically an FBI agent. In fact, he wasn't even sightly an FBI agent, no matter how good he was getting at making fake badges), Hugh opened the wardrobe. He saw a pair of nice pants and a white shirt, but other than that, the robe was full of jeans, flannels and hoodies. Boots, steel toed, sat the most loved shoe on the bottom shelf. Hugh was about to close the door when he noticed, ashamedly and admittedly, a pair of satin pink ladies underwear, poking out of his bottom draw. Hugh bent and pulled it open, finding the underwear flat on top of his briefs and boxers.

Hugh gingerly picked them up.

"I'm gonna assume you don't belong to Kay," he said grimly, affirming it by an invasive but necessary (no, not necessary, just invasive. And stupid. And uncomfortable. I mean, seriously, Hugh, she's going to walk in and call the cops, have you not seen one single Korean Soap Opera in your life?) check through her underwear draw. The two were distinctly differently sized.

Hugh headed into the bathroom, pulling out a plastic bag and stuffing the underwear into them. The bathroom was clean, well kept together. Hugh would have given a half hearted glance around the room if it wasn't for a _crunch_ under his left foot.

He bent down, feeling the offender between his fingers, brushing it off before it cut into his skin. "Glass."

The bin next to the toilet was as inconspicuous as bins go, silver, the plastic bag to remove and throw out sticking out the top.

Hugh sighed when he pulled open the lid.

It wasn't a big photo, in fact, Hugh could almost believe it would sit on a bedside table, its frame a small pink circle, the words 'ANNIVERSARY' etched and painted in gold over the top.

Thanks to the picture in the newspaper, Hugh could recognise the mans face.

Glass smashes and frame cracked, the angrily thrown away picture of Doug Stream grinned up at him.

* * *

 

_The Public Library_

_St Marriane's Township, Illinois_

_2nd November, 2005_

* * *

 

" _What can you tell me about the White Woman?_ " Hugh's voice came over the phone, said cell pressed into Liz's ear.

"The Women who killed their children when they discovered their husbands had been cheating and then killed themselves?" Liz asked. "What about them?"

May looked over from the records she was pouring over. "Why is Hugh asking about a White Woman?"

Liz shrugged. "Maybe he needs a date."

" _Oh ha ha. Anyway, I think...well, the women went mad, didn't they? They killed their children in like, a fit of insanity, right?_ "

Liz sighed. " _Yes_. Now could you get to the point?"

Hugh sounded uncomfortable. " _Ok, well, did they know that they'd killed their children because they saw the bodies, or because they remembered?"_

Liz started, "Hugh─"

" _Doug was cheating on Kay_ ," he informed her. " _She found out. Smashed and tore up every single photo of him in their house. They didn't have children. What if she...killed Doug, doesn't remember, so she's sort of...half a White Woman?_ "

Liz relayed, quickly, the story to May.

The elder Winter frowned. "Or maybe she _does_ remember, and just doesn't want to go to jail. You know, I hear that's common with psychopaths."

" _No way. She was telling the truth._ "

"Criminals lie."

"I'm pretty sure that's demons."

"Criminals lie _as well_."

" _Whatever, it doesn't matter,"_ Hugh snapped. " _We know who killed Doug, and we know where the Spirit will strike next. We just don't know when."_

"Well, we don't know _where,_ per se. But we do know who. So you're sort of half right."

"... _shut up, Liz_."

* * *

 

_Outside the house of Kay Smith and the Late Douglas Booth_

_Glenbrook Avenue_

_St Marriane's Township, Illinois_

* * *

 

The Winters stood outside the house that Kay once shared with Douglas Stream. It was deep into the night. They'd all met up after Hugh had returned back to the motel. Then it took about an hour to make sure they had everything. And then another to make sure that it wouldn't be early enough for people to notice a nondescript Falcon parked out the front of a grieving household.

"You gotta admit, my idea was pretty awesome," Hugh said, grinning.

"Yeah, well, you might still be wrong," May muttered, pulling her jacket around her.

Liz offered a non-committal grunt that could have been in agreement with either of them.

They were leaning against their car. Trying to not look like stalkers.

"If someone sees us, they'll call the cops," Liz told them worriedly.

"Yeah," May said, distractedly, then she pulled her jacket even closer around herself. "Do they have heating in prison?"

"Probably," Hugh replied, wistful.

"They also have criminals," Liz reminded them.

"Yeah...but heating," May insisted.

Liz made an 'honestly' sound in the back of her throat, and all was silent as they sat and watched uncomfortable in the cold as they fought monsters.

That was, of course, until a scream pierced the air.

Hugh lead his sisters as they raced across the road, shotguns loaded with rock salt and iron knives clasped in their hands.

With two hard, precise kicks, the door swung, trembling on its hinges. They charged in, splitting up.

"Kay!" Hugh yelled, stepping in and sweeping the living room. "Kay!"

Another scream, from further in the house, and a huge, deafening _crash_ that shook the home to its foundations.

Hugh ran through, he skidded at the kitchen, stopped, and within a second, took in the mutilated corpse, the cowering woman and the debris that lay over the floor in a sweep of dust and crockery.

The bullets crashed through the ghost, once, and then twice, and shrieking, it flashed out of existence.

Hugh helped Kay up, May and Liz running into the room shortly after.

"What the Hell?" she gasped, turning from each of the siblings. "What was that?"

"A spirit," May said, chucking the bag of bullets to Hugh to reload. "Ghost."

Kay paled. "What?"

"Well, it wasn't Casper, if that's what you're wondering," Hugh informed her, clipping the bullets in an throwing the bag back at May.

Kay narrowed her eyes. "You...you're the FBI agent!"

Hugh shrugged. "Well, I had an FBI badge, which is sort of the same thing."

Kay held her head in her hands and crumpled to the floor. "Oh my God, oh my _God_."

Liz knelt down next to her as May pulled out the salt and Hugh kept an eye open for the ghost. "Ok, Kay, I know, I know. It's ok."

The woman looked up and took a deep breath. Unshed tears gathered in her eyes.

Liz gave her a small, knowing smile. "Ok. Look, we need to know, what did the spirit look like?"

"It was..." Kay's eyes swelled with tears. "It was a just a little girl...she can't have been more than eight..."

Liz glanced at May, who looked up, understanding. "Rosie Stewart, father put up for her murder, acquitted. He later admitted he had in fact done the deed, but because of the laws of Double Jeopardy, he wasn't able to be found guilty."

Hugh glanced at Kay and Liz. "You two stay here, don't step outside the salt line," ─he gestured to the ring of salt he'd drawn around them─ "and don't do anything until we call you. Got it?"

Liz nodded, and Kay, albeit distractedly, followed suit.

May and Hugh, with awkward nods, and May's usual, solemn, 'I promise to be back' glance at Liz, left the house and climbed into the car.

They were silent, gripping their guns, heads full of gunshots and salt rings.

Then May remembered the whole 'lighten the mood to stave off insanity'.

"At least she had a heater," she remarked.

Hugh cracked a grin.

* * *

_Lincoln Road_

_On the Outskirts of st Marriane's Township, Illinois_

_2nd November 2005_

* * *

 

When the car bumped, and threw them against their seatbelts, May and Hugh realised that perhaps, all the times they'd killed things that had once been human might have added a few tally marks to their score.

The car bounced on the road, May's temple colliding with the windscreen. She pressed her hand to it. "Shit."

Hugh glanced over at her, understanding. "So, was it all the witches or that time we cleaned out a vampires nest?"

May rubbed the bump and sighed. "I'm gonna say a bit of everything."

She looked fearfully out of the window. "How long till we get there?"

Hugh glanced at the map and then at the speedometer. "15 minutes."

May barely had time to duck and shove her shoulder out of the way when the roof suddenly caved in, a _bang,_ a crack and a dent that could have cracked her skull open.

Gingerly, she sat up out of the way. "Remember that time I killed that Siren by bashing its brains out?"

"Well, Rosie certainly does," Hugh said, hands clenched hard on the steering wheel, speeding along the road faster than he dared.

May gripped her seat, her gun and dared peek around the window. She had done this sort of thing hundreds of times. Your usual D Grade salt 'n burn. But that didn't stop her heart push against her ribs, a hammer on shuddering bones. That didn't slow her aching lungs as they were pushed to breaking point, starving for oxygen, chest heaving, hands shaking.

She still feared and quietly, she was glad she did so.

Fear made her human. Fear made her touchable, if even to be reached by herself.

There had been an eerie silence as the car drove the next few miles to the cemetery. Hugh had pushed on the accelerator hard, praying that they wouldn't get pulled over. The darkness coupled with the speed meant the scenery was a blur of black and dark shades of green, dilapidated fences and the odd deep brown of a tree.

"So," he said, trying to bring up the mood. "An obvious suspect, this Rosie, wasn't she? I mean, how many other people fell into the 'Probably had a great injustice befall them' category?"

May turned, her head still held at an awkward angle, avoiding the metal sheered down where her head had once been. She glared. "Five, actually."

Tires on the road, the night's wind through the cracks in the car.

"So are you going to tell me what they were, or am I going to guess?" Hugh asked, breaking the silence-of-sorts.

May sighed. A deep, eldest sibling, fed up, endeared sigh. "An extremist Priest from the 40's, a housewife ripped apart in the 20's because the townspeople thought that she had killed her son, a Postman, a gardener and little Rosie."

Hugh grimaced. "This town is messed up."

"Yeah, almost as messed up as y─"

A bullet sliced through the glass, shattering a million tiny pieces throughout the car. It buried itself in the back seats upholstery, rampaging through Hugh's seat, missing his head by a hair. Hugh veered the car roughly to the side of the road, eyes wide, animal in headlights. May clasped her brothers arm, squeezed and promised herself that she would not scream. As soon as the car stopped she jumped out. Holding her gun upright, spinning around.

She fired a shot. "Come out, you rotting, murderous bitch!"

Hugh ran over to her. "Come on, May! We have to keep going."

May span and glared angrily. "We're sitting ducks in that fucking car! I won't sit down and wait for her to kill us!" she span back, screaming, her against the world. "You hear that, Rosie? I don't care how sad your story is. You could have _killed_ him!"

Hugh looked like he knew it was the wrong time, cared deeply but had no control over his actions. "Well, that may have been the point."

May snarled. "For _once_ in your life could you just _shut up_!"

Hugh didn't say anything.

May, clipped bullets into her gun, accounting for the one she wasted. "We have to go. We're walking. The cemetery isn't far from here."

Hugh spoke, "You have to be kidding me! We're about 100 times safer in the car!"

May shook her head, nursing her shotgun in one hand and pulling the shovel out with the other. "No. We're 100 times more defenceless."

"Then they equal each other out!" Hugh protested, May ignored him and walked off down the street, her pace deadened and fast. " _May_!"

Cursing, glaring and kicking the car that was not yet totalled, thankyouverymuch, he stalked after her, clasping the lighter in his pocket with a grim sort of apprehension.

***

Liz and Kay sat, facing each other, in the salt circle, taking up the table and chairs, and drawing numerous salt lines all throughout the room.

They hadn't spoken much. Most of it had just been Liz reassuring Kay that everything was fine, or would be soon, and would she please stop accidently kicking Liz as her legs fretted under the table.

Liz winced.

"Sorry," Kay muttered, for the fifth time.

"It's fine," Liz said, for the fourth time. "But could you just, I don't know, squeeze a stress ball or something?"

Kay paled. "My stress ball is upstairs."

Liz sighed. "Fine. By all means. Keep kicking me."

Kay had nothing to say at that.

Then, the dreaded question. "So, why was the ghost, spirit, whatever, after me anyway?"

Beforehand, the Winters had decided to keep the whole 'You killed Your Fiancée And Now a Judge, Jury and Executioner Style Spirit Is On Your Tail' After school special to themselves. So Liz just shrugged.

"I don't know. It could have something to do with your house, you know, it's reasonably old."

Kay frowned. "But your, uh, sister, was it? Yeah, she said that the girl, Rosa─"

"Rosie," Liz corrected. Then she blinked. She was starting to sound a lot like May. Kay had been startled out of what she had been saying. "Sorry, it's a nervous habit."

Kay passed a quick smile of easy forgiveness. "Uh, yeah, Rosie. She said that she had been killed by her dad?"

Liz groaned inwardly. Why couldn't the people they rescued be less inquisitive and more materially generous. "Uh, the more...um, _unholy_ , the death, the stronger the ghost."

Kay spread her eyes wide and nodded in understanding.

Liz smiled and prayed that Kay didn't decide to pursue a career in Hunting. Not that there was much money in it.

"And your siblings are...?"

"Destroying the bones," Liz answered. "Burning and salting them. The only way to get rid of ghosts."

Kay went pale. "Like, Grave Desecration?"

Liz nodded, impressed. "You studying law?"

Kay shook her head, embarrassed. "I watch CSI."

Liz grinned. "Eh. It's really the same thing."

Kay smiled, so grateful to Liz for being there, for not leaving her alone to figure all this out on her own. "Well, it's not, but it's nice of you to say so."

They would have spoken more, they may have become friends, good friends, sisters in all but blood. They may have discovered that they were more alike than they thought. Liz would manage to forget that Kay was possibly criminally insane, and Kay would forget that Liz hunted demons.

That is, of course, had little Rosie, killed by her father, left outside barely alive, unable to scream, to yell for help, in her last moments, not appeared. A ghost opposite them, eyes fixed on Kay.

Kay screamed and flung herself back, crashing by the side of the table and shuffling as far back as she could.

"Stay inside the salt!" Liz reminded her, yelling as she pumped a salt round through the spirits body. Rosie disappeared, but Liz could tell that she'd be back, and soon.

Kay struggled up and hung by Liz, breathing laboured, clutching the young womans shoulders in a desperate attempt to steady herself.

Her breathing was haggard, irregular, terrified.

Liz flipped out her phone, pressed the speed dial for May's phone and threw is over to Kay. "Tell them the spirits here, and she's not staying away."

Kay pressed the phone to the ear, held her hand over her mouth, and watched with silent fear as Liz fired two more times.

* * *

_High Mountain Cemetery_

_On the Outskirts of st Marriane's Township, Illinois_

_2nd November, 2005_

* * *

 

The first thing that they'd done was spread a ring of Salt around the grave as they took turns digging at the dirt.

The walk over had been uneventful, apart from a small, furry indistinguishable creature dash out in front of them. May would have shot at it had she not realised just in time that she was keyed too high.

"My turn," Hugh insisted, standing from where he had been squatting, next to the fuel and canister of salt. "C'mon, May."

She shook her head. "I'm fine. I'm nearly there."

Hugh frowned. "No, seriously─"

"Hugh, I'm _fine_ ," she insisted, still not having looked up from the ground beneath her feet.

Hugh would have believed her, had her head not drooped, her arms not shaken and her legs not seem so close to buckling as he watched her. She had refused his last two attempts at taking over, and Hugh refused now to let her work herself to unconsciousness.

Hugh dropped into the hole in the ground, and, without so much as a word, he pulled the shovel from her grip. May let him, arms fallen to her sides, eyes doomed with defeat.

She crawled out, sat down on the tombstone and watched him, dirt covering her face, sweat licking her arms and neck.

He dug.

"I'm sorry," she muttered.

Hugh looked up, confused. "Why?"

She looked like she was struggling. She'd never been good as separating apology from defeat. "For...for yelling at you. For losing my head. For trying to shoot a rat. For sucking at digging graves."

"Oh," was all he said, returning to digging the grave. "I thought it was going to be for that time you said I looked like a cannibal from that movie we watched."

May smiled. "The one with the actress who sort of looked like Kate Winslet?"

Hugh smiled back at her. "Yeah. That one."

Mays phone rang, a standard default tune. She switched it on call. "Liz?"

" _May_!?" Kay's desperate voice rang through the speaker. " _It's here_!"

"Kay? What? Rosie's with you?"

" _She won't stay away! She just keeps coming back!"_

Hugh had understood, he had overheard enough phone calls to know what each one meant.

May winced and grasped tightly at the phone as it crashed onto the floor, a _whack!_ sent through, thumping around in her ear.

"Kay?"

Her knuckle turned white when a high pitched scream echoed through afterwards, a crack, a smash, and the explosion of glass on the ground. Wind pushed through, a howling in her temple.

"Kay!"

Liz's voice seemed so far away." _Shit! The salt!_ "

And then the phone clicked off.

May shoved the phone into her pocket and jumped into the grave. It was nearly there, Hugh was working like a madman, sweating through his shirt.

May swiped it from him and piled out the last mounds of dirt, flinging them messily over the gravesite. She cracked the top of the grave, smashed the spade in and forced the coffin open, wrenching it from side to side.

Hugh and she climbed out once the lid was clear, a bunch of twisted splinters and kindling. They spread the fuel over the bones, Hugh mastering the salt as she lathered the old bones with the flammable liquid.

Hugh flicked his lighter, stood over the grave and gazed down at what was once a mistreated girl from St Marianne's, Illinois.

"Rest in pieces," he muttered, dropping the lighter in.

He couldn't help grinning at his own joke.

May rested her hand on her brothers shoulder.

He reached his arm over her shoulders.

She dropped her hand and hugged her jacket around herself.

The stars, fires that burned in earnest when the sun was not out, and the moon, the waxy god that stood a white beacon in their sky, gazed down on the Winter children, and if they had had eyes should have wept.

May rested her head on his shoulder. The morbidity of warmth from a corpses fire wasn't lost on her, but neither was this moment, where the world and the sky and she and her brother were attune together in a perfect symphony. Where he forgave her for being stupid, and thanked her for seeking that reconciliation.

"We should go before someone notices the flaming corpse."

A grin and a shove. "Well put, baby brother."

The phone rang and May answered it, sighing with relief when Liz's familiar voice sang through.

* * *

_Glenbrook Avenue_

_St Marriane's Township, Illinois_

_3rd November, 2005_

* * *

 

It wasn't nice, the next morning. It wasn't calm or bright. The sun shivered behind an army of grey clouds. A shivering breeze shuddered throughout St Marianne's. The Winter's car was salvageable but conspicuous. A hole in the roof and a shattered windscreen would do that to a car.

"Where are you going now?" Kay asked, timid, exhausted, hoisting a giant, comfy looking dressing gown around her as they bid her farewell.

Hugh shrugged. "There was something about a Witch Coven in Arkansas that needed to be cleared out."

Kay's eyes widened. "Witches?"

"He was joking," Liz assured her, lying and glancing up at Hugh. "We actually just need to fix our car."

"Right, yeah of course."

May tried to roll her eyes discreetly.

"So..." Kay started, then she coughed, swallowing and looking uncomfortable. "Would you...ah, I'd just like to...to thank you, I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"No, I...I know," she affirmed. "I'm so thankful, for what you've done for me. Thank you, thank you so much."

May smiled. "Hey, it's our job."

"No it's not," Kay told them. "You don't have to do this, and you do. And I'm grateful."

Hugh nodded, and Liz bid her goodbye. May dipped her head and slipped into the driver's seat. Hugh claimed shotgun, and grumbling, Liz slithered into the back.

They drove off, nothing to have ever said that the Winter's had been there, save for a broken and saved girl, a vandalised grave and credit card details reading for Jackie Reed and her two older siblings.

"I'm still not sure we should just let her go," May reminded them, her words a dull echo from an argument that morning. "She did kill Douglas."

"It was a fit of insanity," Liz muttered.

"That she could have again."

Liz glared. "But she won't."

"How can you be _sure_?"

Liz looked out the window. "I just _know_."

May stared ahead, gaze stony, but she didn't turn the car around.

They drove on through the night.


End file.
